Diabolique ou divin
by DarK-MooN-RaVeN
Summary: A short fic about Madhatter and Lucifer-sama, in MH-chan's POV ^___^; i inserted some "vampiric" themes, as I initially wrote this as an RPG challenge to a friend of mine ^_^


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DISCLAIMER!  
The author is a french-language illiterate :P  
[her mastery of the french language only covers   
cheese omelettes {omelete du fromage}]  
all french phrases used in this particular piece   
of revenge plot was taken from the song   
"Sadeness" By enigma ^_^  
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-- CURTAIN OPENS --   
  
*the rustling of soft cloth meeting hard floor*  
*tap, tap, tap, sounded the light footsteps as it echoed throughout   
the stillness of the room*  
*a figure emerges from the shadows, dark lavender eyes piercing   
through the hood of her cloak*  
  
† dit moi qu'est ce que tu vas chercher? †  
(tell me what is it that you seek?)  
  
*she makes out the striking figure of the demonic angel on his throne*  
*a clandestine smile manifests on her lips*  
*With light steps, she approaches her slumbering Master on the   
throne*  
  
† le bien par le mal †   
(The rightness of wrong)  
  
*pale lithe hands slowly caress the sides of his sleeping figure as   
she positions herself beside his throne*  
*a bittersweet sigh escapes from her rouge-stained lips*  
  
† ou` sont tes fide`les ? †  
(Where are your faithful?)  
  
*one pale finger traces the mark on her master's left eye, as if   
absorbing the depth and meaning of that mark... with light caution,   
she shifts her gaze from his eyes to his lips. The pattern of her   
breathing synchronizing with his.*  
*she could never tire of watching her master's slumber. As this is   
the time when he is in utmost surrender, his mask stripped away,   
showing the angelic child hidden behind the entrancing demonic eyes*  
  
† la vertu par le vice †   
(The virtue of vice)  
  
*a slight prick on her neck sends a shiver to her soul*  
  
[[[*his fangs rip through her delicate skin* "Atsui...chi   
ga...amai mo..."]]]  
  
*a faint memory of illusions, mirrors and gloved hands...*  
*...of feigned warmth and dignified surrender.*  
  
*with a bitter sweet smile, she approaches his ear and whispers*  
  
"dit moi pourquoi le sang pour le plaisir ?"   
(tell me why blood for pleasure?)  
  
*he stirs in his sleep as if disturbed from a dream*  
  
† Le plaisir sans l'amour...? †  
(Pleasure without love...?)  
  
*she takes a light step back in slight alarm, arms positioned   
protectively around her, with the tension of an overstrung violin   
string*  
  
† N'y a t'il plus de sentiment dans le culte de l'homme ? †  
(Is there no emotion in the cult of man?)  
  
*he whispers, a word faint as the soft touch of the breeze on a cold   
night, yet a distinct sound echoing in the abyss*  
*she heaves a sigh and resumes her position beside her master, but   
the trickle of pain remains*  
  
" dit moi pourquoi l' 'evangile du mal ? "   
(tell me why the Gospel of evil?)  
  
*she places her finger on his lips and inflicts a small wound on his   
soft lips*  
*a droplet of blood escapes from the wound*  
  
† dit moi , donne moi †  
(tell me, give me)  
  
*she catches the precious drop before it trickles down his lips*  
*from her own lips, a pale white fang portudes. The sharpness of it   
sends a warm searing pain*  
*her own blood trickles, scarlet against pale white*  
  
"dit moi pourquoi le sang pour le plaisir ?"   
(tell me why blood for pleasure?)  
  
*she wipes his blood on her lips, the master's blood mingling with   
the fledgling*  
  
"dit moi..."  
(tell me...)  
  
*she inches slowly towards her master*  
  
"dit moi..."  
(tell me...)  
  
*she stops for a while, her lips inches away from her master's*  
*she reaches out and cradles his face with her cold hands*  
*his eyes slowly open as he is awakened from his sleep, finding his   
fledgling close to him with bloodstained lips, a faint glimmer of   
surprise shone in his dark eyes*  
  
"Je sais que c'est interdit..."  
(I know it is forbidden...)  
  
*her master lays immobile, his entrancing eyes narrowing as silence   
descends upon the pair*  
*a cold wind blows, the nothing wind. The wind that blows between   
places, signifying nowhere*  
*she releases her right hand from her master's cheek and a pure white   
rose materializes*  
  
† Mea culpa †  
(I admit guilt)  
  
*she brings the rose to her bloodstained lips as her master continues   
to watch*  
*the blood stains, marking the petals of the white rose*  
*her master watches in puzzlment as she brings the rose to his lips*  
*she prepares to leave, her clothes rustling as she rises*  
*her master holds her left hand and looks at her in the eye*  
  
"Je ne dors plus..."   
(I can't sleep anymore)  
  
*she smiles and places the rose on his lap*  
  
"Lucifel...es-tu diabolique ou divin?"   
(Lucifel...are you diabolical or divine?)  
  
-- CURTAIN FALLS -- 


End file.
